Prompt: Kiss
by Ngoc Chau
Summary: He wanted her. He desired her. The idea of her frightened him and it confused him him greatly: to look at his lieutenant and think two completely different things, to either cut her to pieces or to crush her in his hold. Mayuri x Nemu fluff Part 4/5


**Ngoc Chau does not own Bleach**

**So this is part 4/5. Please read and review. **

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**Prompt: Kiss**

Reader, finally Kurotsuchi Mayuri was beginning to regain his thoughts about his young creation, his lieutenant. Already, the urge to create and fashion something that could rival anything that Urahara Kisuke could possibly do came to him, and it was then that he knew that this must have been the catalyst for Kurotstuchi Nemu. Thoughts of a soldier that could carry almost a thousand times his weight a weapon that could think and move on its own, his own acolyte. Even more impressive than the Mod Souls, to be able to create a soul that had its own zanpakuto, its own alter ego and power. He would be capable of surpassing the previous 12th division captain, he would be able to mimic God!

But there was the strangest phenomenon behind him; he was confronted with dual thoughts. The first of these thoughts was the returning feelings of his lieutenant that he saw her as a child who was ignorant and stupid, needing his guidance in which to grow and mature; that she was his to do whatever and however he saw fit to educate her and to aid her in her development, a more than capable assistant(though he feared to tell her such for that would beget confidence, and that would inevitably lead her to step out from under his wing. Some instinct inside him dreaded that one day she would leave him: call herself ready to face the world by herself without him to show her) that would follow his footsteps to the dotted line, his confidante.

And yet, he faced the emotions that had grown since he first met her with the new brain transplant. To him, he saw her as a woman: his standard to what a woman should at least pass as. He wanted her. He desired her. She frightened him, no, it was the idea of her that frightened him. Should he fall to his lust and want for her and took her as he wanted, who was to say that he would still be in control? Would he become weaker? Was that the man he was before: a snivelling sap who had the young woman cloud his mind and tried desperately to hide it by screaming and yelling and ready to kill anyone who found out? Or was he Kurotsuchi Mayuri: the mad-genius captain of the 12th division: unfeeling, frightening, a person to never underestimate or trust?

It confused him greatly: to look at his lieutenant and think two completely different things, to either cut her to pieces or to crush her in his hold. Once he was better, could he come up with something to erase the memories of his rehabilitation? Or was that needed as well? What was the point of having two sets of memories when the first set was so much more easier to cope with?

He shuddered and fell back onto his chair, more memories - the design for her soul, the toil of her body, the almost instantaneous growth of foetus to child to woman, the first look of green eyes; the rising of the chest and leap of the hearts, whose? - bombarded him and his head felt like it was going to melt.

A hand gripped his shoulder, none too lightly, to steady him as he ceased his convulsions and calmed down, the sweat running down his face. "Mayuri-sama." she asked, her brows slightly furrowed, "Are you alright?"

Something in him roared at that simple question, its words escaped through his mouth before he could stop it, "Of course I'm not alright, you stupid twit! Does it look like I'm alright? Pay attention to what an ill man looks like!"

She did not wince at his insult, nor did she appear hurt.

He stood up, his teeth clenched together and his fists pounding on his head. "I need to get out of here!" he said more to himself than to her. He stormed out of the barracks, his captain's haori billowing behind him, and he had to resist the growing urge to cut through someone's gut who so happened to cross his way. The zanpakuto at the front of him was practically begging to be drawn, to hear someone scream as it cut through them. The air felt as confining outside as it was inside. He heard the steady steps that he recognized belonging to Nemu. She had come after him.

"What took you so long? Did I really do so poorly on you that you're slower than one of those academy freshmen?" The words just came out of him without thinking. Word vomit. Honestly, he was conscious that he was in physical pain, that his head hurt, and that it frustrated him to not be able to concentrate enough to remedy it. But something in him, at his gut, at the back of his head, in his hands felt like snapping out of control, felt like everything was going wrong. He could not understand it and so that added more to his agonizing confusion. Then there was the overall feeling of numbness. He should feel angry at this, he should be understanding at that; yet through it all, he felt a cold numbness that only had the result for release, that everything was coming out of him.

Nemu asked, her words slightly slower if anyone would pay attention, "Then, do you remember who I am, Mayuri-sama?"

There was a snarl in his voice, "Who could ever forget you! Who could ever forget…a troublesome… idiotic… lazy… girl… like you." As the words came, he felt no remorse nor any guilt at it. Perhaps a pang, but it was quickly washed over by something else, a certain emotion that he could not name.  
"I'm sorry." would be the best thing to say, then a embrace shared by the two of them to signify forgiveness; but, Reader, they are not people to do such things.

She bowed her head slightly, "Forgive me, Mayuri-sama. It was a most insolent thing to ask. I am in no position to question you."

He looked at her and she looked back at him, the space hung between them, limitless, eternal. He turned away and walked through the path he knew that no one else walked through, or seldom did. She followed. There were no words shared between them. As she stayed behind him, he would sometimes halt for her to walk next to him, but she would shy away and slow her pace to remain behind him. Then he had to grab her wrist and hold it until she understood the message that he did indeed want her beside him. She complied hesitantly, keeping her head low. Her presence did not make anything lighter, nor did it make it any worse. It was indifferent. But he wanted her with him, next to him, close to him. But then he wanted her far from him. Two thoughts, which was his before, and which was his now?

He wanted to rest afterwards, she knew where there was a bench and she even offered to carry him to it if he so wished. Mayuri didn't bother answering, walking ahead of her as a way of indicating that he did not need to her to carry him.  
The bench was modest and it looked to be something that the 4th division had made for it had their logo carved in the middle of it. He sat down and she along with him, the distance was significant. He leaned back on the bench, she sat up straight with her hands in her lap. The wind passed by.

After a silence, she asked him, "Mayuri-sama, might you remember the Quincy?"

He narrowed his eyes at her, "What about the Quincies? They have no interest to me anymore." The memories of the Quincies that he had caught and experimented on came at first as a surprise to him, yet ended with mirth and glee as he recalled the vivid details and satisfaction that lay in studying every single one of them until they were nothing but mush and powdered bones.

She cleared her throat, "Forgive me then, Mayuri-sama, for asking you such a question."

He looked off in the distance of the trees, the shapes of it melting together until it looked like a single form. "There was this old man, the last Quincy. I recall, he was screaming this name during the procedure: Ishida Uryu. I don't know why that name should sound so significant to me, but I can't forget it." He looked at her, his fingers tapping on the edge of the bench, "You wouldn't happen to know why, would you, Nemu."

She nodded her head, "Ishida Uryu is another Quincy, Mayuri-sama. He will come to you shortly in your memories, I believe."

"It's strange that I should remember such a lowly Quincy. Was there anything special about him?"

"He was a subject that you were monitoring, Mayuri-sama."

"For what?" he asked.

"You did not tell me much about it, Mayuri-sama."

The words slipped from his tongue again, "Stupid girl." He stood up, stretching his limbs. Nemu looked up at him before standing up herself.

"Are you ready to go back now, Mayuri-sama?" A thought came to him: he was a man, she was a woman, both of them were alone and up for anything. The thought compelled him to step towards her, she stepped back. Something was telling him that he was impatient, another was destroying that notion and saying that Nemu was being dumb.  
He grabbed for her and she gave no resistance.

"Mayuri-sama…" she whimpered as he gripped her shoulders tightly.

"Don't say anything. Just be quiet!" he whispered harshly to her, the eyes wide.

She nodded her head. He thought that she seemed to know, or at least begin to know, what was happening, what he was doing for her eyes fluttered halfway closed and her lips parted only slightly.  
He took her face in his hands and she leaned in as he did. The tips of their noses touched. With lips that brushed only briefly for a moment, they kissed.

Now, Reader, what happened afterward with their kiss, whether they kissed again because he was satisfied with the first one of that day being a success or that he brought it to another level behind closed doors, I will not tell you. Such a moment this time, this intimacy, this small kiss is hardly worth elaborating on. So I will leave what happened after that small kiss to your, the Reader's, imagination.

But Reader, I will, at least, tell you one thing: he held her hand afterwards as she blushed before they had to leave that bench by the plum tree.

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**So, how was it?**

**Please, if you have any ideas, leave it in a review or send it in a PM.**


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